Coffee and Conclusions

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  The song stopped, and the radio DJ came on. That’s when it hit her. Music! We could talk about music and share our faves.

  She washed her hands and grabbed her phone from her back pocket.

  Hey you! When you land and have time to message me, remind me to ask you about your favorite music. I hope your flight was good. Xoxo

  A smile was on her face as she went back to preparing her salad and steak. Her mind continuously fixed on Isabella and what kind of music she might like.

  It was almost 7 p.m. Erin was sitting on her bed, watching some ridiculous game show on TV. Her phone buzzed and startled her.

  “Christ,” she muttered, as she retrieved her phone and looked at the text message.

  Hello. I’m not your external memory bank, you know. ;-) But by all means: remember to ask me about music. The flight was fine. Alberto did have a screaming fit halfway through and caused some angry looks, but I was expecting that. We’re in a taxi on the way to my parents’ house now.

  Erin looked at the winking emoji in the text with pride. Isabella had always refused to use emojis. She’d bent the rules to ensure that Erin knew she was kidding. Isabella, with her sharp edges and sarcastic comments, was trying hard not to offend. And that said a lot.

  Hm. Discussing music via text might be complicated.

  Okay. Can I call you? It’ll make your taxi ride go faster.

  The answer came back quickly.

  Sure. Any excuse to talk to you, preciosa.

  Erin bit her lip around a smile as she called.

  “Hello. Well, hello again, I suppose,” Isabella answered.

  “Yeah, hi again. Anyway, let’s get to the important stuff! I can’t believe we have been talking for months and never discussed music. What do you like?”

  Isabella laughed. “You’re so impatient when you have something you want to discuss.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess. Sorry.”

  “No, no, don’t apologize. It’s sweet. It shows passion and focus. Hmm, what sort of music do I particularly enjoy? I have quite a few Billie Holiday and Nina Simone CDs. Some classical albums and a few contemporary compilations I’ve picked up on road trips. To be honest, I’ve not really listened to much music since Alberto was born.”

  “Wow, okay, that’s gotta change. Why don’t you make me a playlist of your favorite songs, and I’ll do the same? It’ll be something we can do for each other from a distance. I mean, other than just talk.”

  They were both quiet for a few moments. Over the phone, Erin could hear the muffled sounds of traffic and the tick-tick of the taxi driver’s indicator.

  “Is the distance bothering you, Erin?”

  Erin grinned up at the ceiling. “Ah, man, am I that transparent? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that music is important, and it’s a good way to get to know each other. Do you wanna try the playlist idea?”

  “Well, I’m certain I would, if you could just explain to your favorite technophobe which program or platform we would use to make them. I’d burn you a CD of songs like I used to for friends in the old days, but this tablet doesn’t seem to have any place to insert one…”

  It was impossible for Erin not to love how clueless Isabella was about this stuff. “Tell you what. I was thinking of sending you a little package when you got settled in your new place. A bit like the packages you’ve sent me. I’ll find my old USB stick, fill it with music I like, and put it in the box I post to you. Then you just plug it into your PC and press play. Sound good?”

  “On one condition, that you are not sitting there pitying me for not getting all this techy stuff,” Isabella said tersely.

  “Nah, the only thing I’m pitying you for is having a BlackBerry.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Isabella grumbled.

  Erin laughed. “I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Isabella said playfully. “Anyway, we’re about to pull up at my parents’ house now. Obviously, we shouldn’t video chat or call each other while I’m there, not without my eagle-eyed and equally eagle-eared mother asking a million questions. But you can still text me, and we can text chat on Skype.”

  Even though Isabella obviously couldn’t see her, Erin nodded. “Sure, it’s only two days, right?”

  “Yes. In two days, I’ll have my own place, and we can talk as much as we like, well, as long as we don’t wake Alberto.”

  “I can wait. It’s not like it’s that great to see you or anything. You’re kinda hideous.”

  Isabella scoffed. “Hideous, am I?”

  “Yep, terrible face-wise, as they say on Parks and Rec.” A wide smile tugged at Erin’s cheeks.

  “Oh, hang on. I know that reference, I used to watch reruns while I fed Alberto in the afternoon.”

  “Busted. You act all serious, like all you do is adult stuff, caring for a baby, cleaning a house, writing a book, but you were watching TV at some point. You are human after all.”

  “Yes, dear, you caught me. I’m a terrible person. Can I go now? I believe the taxi driver wants payment.” Isabella’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

  Erin’s cheeks ached from grinning so much. “Yeah, all right. Try not to scare him or her off with your terrible face.”

  “Thank you for the advice. I’ll text you later.”

  “Yep, let me know how seeing your mom again works out.”

  “I will. Bye for now.”

  When Isabella hung up, Erin sat down at her table. After some searching, she found a pen and started a list on the back of an envelope from an insurance company wanting her business.

  The playlist ended up mainly classic rock with female leads, and Erin realized she was aging herself. She chuckled and let a few newer bands like Ex Hex and The Pretty Reckless join the likes of Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Runaways.

  Pleased with her choices, she sat back, chewing the pen as she wondered where she’d put the damn USB stick. She made a mental note to check the drawers in her bedside table.

  A deeply uncomfortable feeling niggled at her, and slowly she realized what it was. She missed Isabella. She squeezed her eyes closed. How can I miss someone I’ve never met?

  It seemed meeting someone face-to-face wasn’t necessary to miss a person so much that it felt like someone had punched you in the heart.

  Chapter 3

  Arriving at the Martinez Residence

  After adjusting Alberto in the baby harness, Isabella put her hand on the brass handle, but the grand, white door opened first.

  “Mija!” Alberto Sr. exclaimed.

  He pulled Isabella, and the harness-attached baby, into his arms for a bear hug.

  “Daddy! Careful, you’re squashing Alberto,” Isabella said with a happy laugh.

  Alberto Sr. immediately backed off, making way for Isabella to walk into the spacious hallway. Has it always been this big?

  The hallway might look different to her now. But so did her father. He’d lost more of his thick, salt-and-pepper hair since she’d last seen him, leaving his head more bald than covered. His face was wrinkled, but his sparkling smile made him look twenty-five again. God, she’d missed him. She was still such a daddy’s girl, and she leaned in to kiss him tenderly on the cheek.

  “I’ve missed you, Daddy. ¿Cómo estás?”

  He beamed at her. “I was good, but now that you are here, I’m excellent. How are you, mija? And how is my little namesake?”

  Alberto Sr. put his big hand on his grandson’s head and managed to wake little Alberto, who gave an annoyed little squeak that sounded more like a seal than a baby. Both Isabella and her father laughed.

  “He’s fine. As you can hear, a little grumpy, but otherwise fine.”

  “Your flight arrived safely and on time?”

  A voice answered from the staircase. “Clearly, otherwise she wouldn’t be
here, Alberto.”

  Isabella counted to ten in her head before turning to her mother. “Don’t snap at Daddy. Come down here and say hello politely.”

  “Oh my, look at that,” Judith said tersely. “Barely through the front door and already giving orders in someone else’s home.” Her face cracked into a sneaky smile, and she added, “That’s my girl.”

  Isabella shook her head, forcing down a smile at her mother’s approval.

  While she hated her mother, the child inside still needed to impress her. And, yes, sometimes she even wanted her mother’s company. A strange quirk she could never quite accept—nor forgive herself for.

  Isabella knew that trauma from her mother’s own childhood made her so cold and unkind. They’d even spoken of it after Isabella had moved out.

  Her mother loved her and wanted the best for her. Of that, Isabella was convinced. It was simply Judith’s own issues that warped her love and made it controlling in the extreme. Understanding the past didn’t make her mother’s actions forgivable. Far from it. But sometimes it was enough to make Isabella able to be around her. At least for short intervals. Like two days. Maximum.

  Judith walked gracefully down the stairs, all purpose and class and beauty. Her shiny, brown, shoulder-length hair was perfectly coiffured. Her milk-white skin might have started to wrinkle, but Isabella knew her mother used only the best potions and makeup to keep herself looking youthful. Isabella’s own vanity hoped she would look as good when she got to Judith’s age.

  Judith kissed the air in the vicinity of Isabella’s cheek. When she bent down to kiss her grandson on the head, she left a trace of dark lipstick on the skin under his hair.

  Isabella could see her father looking over her shoulder and waving to the baby. She smiled and loosened the harness to lift Alberto free. She held Alberto Jr. out to her father.

  “Would you mind holding him, Daddy? Having him in the harness has done a number on my shoulders and back.”

  For a moment, Alberto Sr. looked frightened. Then he beamed again, reaching out to grab his grandson. He held him like he was made of glass before cradling him close to his chest.

  It was only the second time Alberto Sr. had held him, and just like the last time, it took a while to get used to such an important job. Isabella prayed her son wouldn’t start crying and terrify his grandfather, but Alberto snuggled into his granddad’s mohair sweater and gurgled happily. Alberto Sr. puffed out his chest.

  “Oh, look at the old fool, he looks like he struck gold,” Judith sniped.

  “They both look happy to me. You’re just jealous because he got to hold Alberto first,” Isabella replied.

  Her mother threw her a scornful look, which Isabella ignored. Instead, she focused on removing the harness and hanging it up with her coat before retrieving the luggage the taxi driver had carried to the doorstep. She rolled the overfilled suitcase inside, and Judith helped pull it farther into the hallway so they could close the door.

  Alberto Sr. was busy whispering in Spanish to his grandson, and Isabella was happy to let him get on with it, keeping Mother’s sharp tongue away from the two happy Albertos.

  A little after nine, Isabella had finally dispensed with the pleasantries and the late dinner to escape to the guestroom. While feeding Alberto, she gathered her iPad from her rucksack and connected to her parents’ Wi-Fi, before opening the Skype app and looking for Erin. To Isabella’s joy and relief, Erin was online.

  She typed out a message with her free hand and grimaced at how slow she was.

  IsabellaMartinez1: So, guess who has done serious damage to her back and shoulders carrying around a baby in a harness for half the day?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Judge Judy? Miss Piggy? Hillary Clinton?

  Isabella rolled her eyes and went to answer just as Alberto let go and stopped eating. She looked down at him and saw that he was drifting to sleep. She started to rock him as much as she could with one arm.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Very funny.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I know, right? I’m hilarious!

  IsabellaMartinez1: I wouldn’t go that far, Erin. If I did, you’d start with those silly jokes off the radio again. Anyway, can we get back to my aching muscles?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Sure! I’ll run you a hot bath and then give you a full body massage.

  What Isabella felt at that comment was anything but pure.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I’ll remember that offer for when we meet. Especially the full-body massage, I’m thinking nicely scented massage oil and sensual music?

  She could imagine the look on Erin’s face as she read those words. She wished she could see Erin’s face.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Dammit! I hate it when you make me blush like this.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Really? I love it. Those high cheekbones of yours look amazing in that warm shade of pink.

  BlackVelvetBitches: They do not. Shush. :-( Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking like this. We’re just friends, remember?

  Alberto was getting heavy on her arm, and she put the sleeping baby in the crib her mother had bought for their visit.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself. You’re being so respectful. I shouldn’t test you by tempting you.

  BlackVelvetBitches: That’s right! You could make it up to me, tho.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Really? How?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Video call me. I’ll mute my mic so no one will hear me. We’ll just type, but I’ll be able to look at you. I just want to see you, you know? Just to make sure you didn’t lose any limbs on your travels today.

  Isabella glanced around the empty room as though she was about to do something naughty. It struck her that this room had once, for all of two years, been hers. It had been redecorated since, but still, these walls had heard her sneak calls on the house phone to whatever bad boy she’d been crushing on.

  Now, here she was, feeling the same thrill at letting a crush see her on camera as they spoke. She’d swapped Philadelphia’s teenaged bad boys, with strong arms and leather jackets, for…well, a woman in New York with strong arms and a leather jacket.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Yes. As long as you come on camera too.

  BlackVelvetBitches: As long as I…COME on camera?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Whoa there, sailor. ;-)

  IsabellaMartinez1: Erin! Behave.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Sorry, sorry! Dammit, I was doing so well.

  Isabella experienced that light-headed, buzzed feeling she got after a couple glasses of champagne. Erin was so damn intoxicating.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Yes, well, I quite like it when you can’t help yourself.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Ditto. Okay, I’m gonna video call you with my mic muted now. You ready?

  Isabella turned the volume down, just in case the muted microphone thing didn’t take. Technology couldn’t be trusted.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Absolutely. Call me.

  Her screen resolved into the gorgeous view of Erin Black in a thin, tight, gray hoodie. It looked soft, and it fit her like a second skin.

  Erin was beaming, and that extraordinary smile hit Isabella like a ton of bricks. She was overwhelmed by the wish to hug Erin, to hold her tight and bury her face in the blonde hair that hung loose and straight. She swallowed and forced herself to calm down.

  IsabellaMartinez1: My, don’t you look cozy in that sweater.

  Isabella saw Erin look down at her top and give a shy, lopsided smile before typing her reply.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I’m glad you like it. I’ve had this hoodie for ages and was thinking about throwing it away, actually.

  IsabellaMartinez1: While it’s not my style, I’d like to request you keep it. You look very…huggable.

  Erin grinned widely and held out her arms as if to hug her laptop. Isabella felt her breath catch. God, she wanted that hug. />
  BlackVelvetBitches: Hey, don’t look so sad. We’ll meet up soon, and I’ll hug you so tight you’ll wish that we were in different cities again!

  Isabella looked right at the camera, seeking eye contact.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I doubt you could ever make me wish that. I don’t doubt your strength to hug the breath out of me, though.

  Erin shrugged, looking humble.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I’d say that I’m pretty strong. But mostly I’m just a helluva lot invested in the idea of hugging you.

  Isabella sat up and cleared her throat.

  IsabellaMartinez1: All right, that’s too much sappiness for me. Let’s either talk about your day or go back to being borderline inappropriate. Better yet, let’s combine the two, and you can tell me about working out today, preferably in hot, sweaty detail.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Hey, has anyone ever told you that sometimes your smile looks REALLY wicked? It’s killer sexy. ;-)

  Isabella sighed pointedly.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I had an ex-boyfriend who said I often looked “evil.”

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah, well, no offense, but that’s dumb. It’s not an evil look as much as, I don’t know, wolfish? Wicked? I don’t have an exact word for it, but I really love it. It makes me feel like you could eat me whole, and I’d end up thanking you for it.

  With a suggestive smirk and a raised eyebrow, Isabella looked into the camera.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I might be new to girl-on-girl relationships, but should you really talk about me eating you if you plan to keep this platonic?

  Erin looked down. Was she hiding a smile? Then she started typing, a frown forming.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Okay, first of all, don’t call it girl-on-girl. That makes me think of lesbian porn for straight guys and creeps me out. Pick “woman-loving-woman” or “sapphic” or “queer” or whatever else you’re happy with. Secondly, you’re the one leading me astray, damned temptress!

  Isabella read the message and winked, trying to make it as seductive as she could.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Guilty as charged.